


To Have and To Hold

by tomlintiptoes (hazma_attacks)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, I'm so sorry, It's not even the good 'messed up', M/M, The first part might extremely confuse you, This is some messed up shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazma_attacks/pseuds/tomlintiptoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry breaks his heart as he plans a wedding for someone whom he would've gladly married.</p><p> </p><p>Set post-One Direction. It was a slightly bitter disbandment and Harry was secretly in love with Louis. Now, Harry's a wedding planner and Louis is Eleanor's groom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> So I've posted this on my tumblr before I got an ao3 and it's a bit shitty. I've narrowed the first few chapters down into one and here it is. 
> 
> This isn't real. Idk, it might be in the future.

Harry turns in his bed and glances at the digital clock on his bedside table. 6:30 am. He’s going to be late for work and he can’t be late today. Today is one of the most important days he’s ever going to have in the event styling industry—well, that’s an exaggeration—but today, honestly, is very important. It’s his fourth year in the event-specializing company, Marcus’s Events. Fourth year in his first normal job ever since graduating from the University of Cheshire. And knowing his colleagues and boss, there’d be a really pretty cake in the office pantry from each of the four cake companies they refer to for certain functions.

He blindly gets up from the bed and puts force onto his feet to stand up. Stepping—rather harshly—on a glass CD case that somehow found its way to the floor. Harry being Harry, he furrows his eyebrow at the slight sting on his slightly wounded foot and finds that what he has stepped on is _Up All Night_. His first album. Or, at least, it was 1/5 his anyway.

Harry Styles was made a part of the very famous British-Irish boy band a little over 14 years ago. He was 16 when he joined X-factor and was seen with potential, just not that much when standing alone. So the judges held a decision to create a group out of him and four other boys. A year later, they were touring the world and they were being chased senseless by young ladies.

Inadvertently, he found trust and camaraderie with the boys he was in One Direction with. If he were going to be honest with himself, he even found love. But that’s a story for another day. They became his best friends and his family while they explored the world and performed on stages they had never even imagined they’d be stepping on. Speaking of stepping on, the 30-year-old examines the frail and broken pieces of glass on the floor and those that stuck to his foot. Groaning, Harry takes the prickly bits of glass from his slightly bleeding foot and bandages the small injury after cleaning it with some soap and water. He then sweeps the floor free of glass and goes on to prepare for the day

 

“Harold!” Robert, Harry’s affable boss and mentor, says through the door of his office. He’s got gray-ish hair and a smile that never leaves his face. Unless he has to frown to add animation to a joke he’s got going on.

Smiling, Harry enters the man’s office knowing that Robert would be all over him today. “Good Morning, Rob.” Harry’s deep and raspy voice, the one that Robert’s niece used to scream all about a number of years ago, rang around the soft and silent office.

“You’re grinning a bit too lively today. Special day?”

Harry just grins, deciding to play along, “Yeah, haven’t you heard? My boy band’s reuniting today.”

“Is that so? Hm. Good on you, lad. Tell the gay one that used to always wear stripes for the love of him that I’ve always known he’s gay. And that he’s got a good bum.”

“Are you seriously talking about a-list actor Louis Tomlinson, sir? I believe he’s completely straight.”  He feigns troubled eyebrows.

But Robert beats him to that, feigning more drama through, “Blimey! But I thought he’d end up with that womanizer one.”

Harry gives him a false angry look and shakes his head, “That’s a low blow. I can just get my cake and leave the resignation letter on your desk and your company goes down, old man.”

“Ooh, touchy subject that.”

While walking down the halls of the company he’s worked in for four years, Harry starts to feel a bit sentimental inside. If One Direction hadn’t broken up, where would Harry be right now? This is a question that would always run through his mind. A funny thing, that. Considering the band didn’t even last a decade or longer. Please, they were only together for six years when they decided to call it quits. Some say they were overworked, that for their age, it wasn’t healthy to work at the rate they were going. Some say that it was doomed from the start, what with them really just wanting to be soloists from the beginning. Some even say they got sick of each other. I mean who wouldn’t think that? They all had their different strokes, different styles. They were all so different. The band was the only thing that was holding them together. Kind of like how it is for some siblings. You love each other but, really, if you weren’t siblings but were actually classmates, you wouldn’t choose each other to hang out with.

But no one in the professional field ever thought about the real reasons:

No one knew how Niall felt out of place and was the one who burst and said, “I cannot wait for us to end,” for the first time after a tour in a tired voice that couldn’t sound any more genuine than it already was.

No one knew how Liam already had a back-up plan for when he was going solo except for Danielle who was saddened by the idea of the band—whom she developed love for as brothers—breaking up but felt that it was the practical thing to do.

Nobody ever suspected Zayn planning the same thing as Liam but still trying to hold the band together. No one even noticed when his _Vaz_ _Happenin’s_ turned to “What is happening to this band?”

No one perceived Louis breaking Harry’s heart, not even Louis himself. He was too wound up trying to defend his girlfriend from being called a cover-up, a beard, a fake by the fans to notice that some of his remarks of protection ended up hurting his best friend—who was actually very much in love with him. It all started from “Stop being rude, I love Eleanor.” and ended with a, “Harry and I would never date each other, even if we were gay. Fuck off.”

No one knew that Harry was thinking of Louis when he came out in an interview. No one but his sister and mum knew that he was in love with his best friend. So when he broke down in front of the two ladies after the disbandment, they tried their hardest to get Harry back on his feet. They made him go to university and study. They made him go to work and live a normal life. They made him forget what used to be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.

This leads us to who Harry is now, just a normal 30-year-old bachelor drinking Starbucks during the day and overflowing booze during the night.

“Happy 4th year, Styles!” His colleagues scream as the former singer enters the pantry.

Harry, unable to hide his excitement, yells his thank you to everyone while he makes his way to the cake and the champagne. Over the table are some people who consider him as their close friend since they party with him every Friday night. They know flippant Harry Styles, the former multi-millionare 1/5 of a boy band whom they work with, but they don’t know real Harry Styles, the man who can’t move on from the life he used to share with three brothers and his first love.

“Styles…” Sophie Sheffield, the company’s receptionist, whispers from behind. Sophie is the only one—other than Robert—that Harry can call his true friend ever since he entered the company. Not that the people aren’t nice here, they are very nice, in fact. But nobody understands Harry other than his family and Sophie ever since One Direction.

“Sheffield! There you are.” Harry greets, arms extended for a hug.

“You’ve got guests in your office, did you know?” The tall and charming blonde informs him as they part from their friendly embrace.

“Going to my office for a stalk again, Sophie?”

Sophie rolls her eyes playfully, “Receptionist, remember? I don’t stalk you; I actually have to ask for what their names are and what they want for a living.”

“Whatever you say then, Soph. I know you can’t resist me.” Harry says before grabbing a plate full of cake and a filled wine-glass to head to his office and meet the people his friend was talking about.

“Oh, and Harold?” Sophie says before Harry goes completely out of sight from the long hallway.

“Yes, Sophia?”

“Good luck.”

“Why?” Asks Harry with knitted eyebrows.

“You’re going to need it. Badly.”

Harry’s confused. Are things going to be more difficult for him now that he’s hit 4 years in the company, was that what Sophie meant? Is he going to have a famous Bridezilla in his office? Or perhaps it’s that elderly pimp who goes into Harry’s office almost every three months for a wedding with another random overly-tanned, big-breasted lady who only weds the old man for his money.  What’s his name again? Mr. Bridgeville, Mr. Burchfield, Mr. Br—

The search for Mr. Old Pimp’s real name in Harry’s head stops as soon as his feet do. His eyes don’t go wide as saucers, per se. But he doesn’t look unfazed exactly. His breathing’s normal—something to be grateful for. But he’s internally hyperventilating and all he really wants is to die, s’like that time he came out as bisexual. Only that was in front of an international live stream and he chose that to happen to him. And this. Well, he would never choose this situation even if this were the only option left.

Because it’s like they haven’t aged a day. Their smiles still as Harry remembers. Their hands entwined in that way that pained Harry—because if he had the chance to hold the man’s hand he would hold on so much tighter.

It can’t be. The man Harry fell in love with is here, in his office. They’re here and Harry knows why. He’s not stupid. He’d seen their names together on a newspaper with the word ‘engaged’ in bold capital letters. That newspaper screamed what the couple was doing in Harry’s place of work—other than breaking his heart, of course.

“Harry.” Louis finally says with that same sweet, familiar voice that Harry finds himself falling over and over again for.

“Lou.” Harry says through his breath.

“I see cake. I guess it’s true what we’ve been hearing this morning.” Eleanor inserts, just to be in the conversation. Or maybe she just really wants to state that and Harry is being the little shit that he is mentally.

“Eleanor.” Harry says just as quietly.

“Glad you still remember us.” Louis jokes before walking towards Harry.

Harry tries to clear his head instead of focusing on how stunning Louis looks in skinny jeans, a cardigan, and a top under it that gave him a little peek of _It Is What It Is_. He tries focusing on holding onto the cake in his hand while his heart flutters and his eyes blink and his Adam’s apple bobs upon his subtle gulp of uneasiness.

“Of course, I still remember you. I’m not that old.” Harry says surprised as to how his voice comes out steadier than he expected. “And I keep seeing your face in movie posters.”

Louis blushes as Eleanor giggles, “I’m proud of him too. Did you see him accept his Golden Globe last year then?”

“You’re a lucky lady, El. Engaged to an international dream boy.” Harry says with a fake smirk that he hopes the couple won’t be able to see through.

“Man—I’m a dream man, Haz.” Louis says, which the other two in the room laugh at. “How have you been?”

“Been doing great. I’ve got a good-paying job and a nice flat, life’s life.” Harry says as nonchalantly as he always does whenever one of his old friends from his forgotten life wants to catch up and ask how he’s been.

“Anyway, I can only think that you’ve inferred why Eleanor and I are here.” Louis says when he feels like Harry has nothing more to share about his life.

“I have.” Harry says while skipping off to his table to put down the plate and glass in his hands. “You’re either inviting me to your wedding or letting me do it…so which one?”

Eleanor starts, “Well, I just thought it’d be really nice to have you plan our wedding. It’s been so long, yeah? Like, you know how it gets awkward obviously as time passes. And we were thinking, since we’ve missed you so much, this’ll give us time to like reconnect. And at that, you won’t be able to miss Louis’s wedding.”  

 “I’d really love to have you in my wedding, Harold.” Louis says. The _Harold_ sliding off his tongue as if it hasn’t been that long.

 _So do I. I want you in my wedding. I want you as my groom…_ “I don’t assume the spot for best man isn’t taken.” Harry humbly says, expecting to hear them tell him that Stan is the best man to their wedding.

“Actually—” Eleanor says before she gets cut off by her fiancé.

“I’d love for you to be my best man, Haz!” He has that wide smile and he looks so much like a five-year-old receiving gifts on his birthday except he has stubble and a few creases on his face. But god, Harry still wants to pick him up, hold him close, and snog him against a wall. Or a door. Or while Louis swings his legs while seated on the counter. Whichever, really.

Eleanor’s expressions makes Harry cognizant that the bride doesn’t completely agree with what her fiancé said. Harry knows. It’s his job to know if the bride is pleased or not. Even with the most subtle hints on her face, he knows Eleanor has planned enough as to know that Harry’s going as a planner and as a friend, not the best man. _Not even the groom._  

“It’s okay, Louis. I’m sure one of the boys wouldn’t be too happy about being bumped off his throne.” Harry says, smiling at Eleanor’s direction but not really looking into her eyes. He’s not smug enough to do that to Eleanor. The brunette lady darts her eyes to the floor, too ashamed that Harry had seen through her, that she wasn’t happy with Louis’s invitation for best man. Eleanor is an angel, to be honest. She won’t fight with anyone unless that someone started it. And she will keep quiet, nod, smile—even if only for pretend—just to make others feel better. _That’s what Louis loves most about her, how she’s always so compliant,_ Harry thinks surely.

“Oh yes, Stanley!” Louis says in sudden remembrance while snapping his fingers loudly, pulling Harry out of his trance. “So you’re doing the wedding for us then?”

“Depends if you’re paying me.” Harry jokes. Louis laughs familiarly, Eleanor joins along, and Harry grins just to fit in.

The threesome agrees on talking it out more over coffee—Eleanor’s choice—next Wednesday. Harry advises the couple to think of what their theme would be before they started really planning anything. Eleanor nods politely at all the things Harry says.

Meanwhile Louis cannot believe how professional Harry’s being. He has never seen this part of his old best friend before. Sure, they used to sit in the same room during interviews in which Harry answered with either good answers or dorky ones or just slow drawls of no relevance. But this is different. Harry actually knows what he’s talking about, has mastered it even. Louis feels like a 13-year-old watching a crush from the upperclassmen deliver a really good speech. It’s silly and the thought amuses him ultimately.

They make arrangements for their next appointment. Harry offers his hand, waiting for Louis to shake it like Harry always does with his clients. But Louis’s missed Harry and he’s waited for this day all his life since Harry never called back, never wrote back. He wants to be able to smell and feel and see Harry in his space. He can’t say it out loud for fear that Harry doesn’t miss him as much as he does—Harry looks so in control of his life, like the breakup is the best thing that the band gave him—so instead, he just pulls Harry into a tight embrace.

Harry melts into the hug; he’s missed Louis so much. It’s been years since they were this close. But before tears starts to sting Harry’s eyes, he pulls away. He gives Louis a polite smirk, heads to give Eleanor a hug as well. Just for indifference.

“It was nice seeing you again, love.” Eleanor says before pressing a kiss on Harry’s cheek. After that, she leaves the office to chat with Sophie. 

It leaves only Harry and Louis in the office. If it were up to Harry, he’d sob and ask for Louis not to go on with the wedding. A childish thought he’s been having ever since the engagement news hit headlines. He wants to tell Louis he was—still is—in love with him. But Harry doesn’t do that, because he’s a grown up and he shouldn’t care about Louis’s decisions anymore. If Harry were able to live with this man while hiding a secret, he would be able to manage this.

Louis, on the other hand, wants to pull Harry closer. Lean in and smell Harry’s curls to see if they’re still as brilliant as ever. But he doesn’t, because it won’t look good and Harry would mind. In Louis’s head, he can only think of Harry having the most stable life ever. Though there aren’t any pictures of a wife or a girlfriend or a husband or a boyfriend in Harry’s office, Louis sternly believes Harry’s leading a perfect life. That any reminder of the life they shared in the past is the last thing Harry needs.

Oh, if Louis knows how wrong he is.

 +

It’s midnight and Harry lies awake in bed. It’s almost twelve and songs from their second album, _Take Me Home_ are playing from his iPod. He doesn’t know why he does this to himself but whenever he gets reminded of Louis greatly, he plays music that reminds him of the man even more. The habit started a few months after the disbandment. The first instance was about seeing Louis’s face on a movie poster. Harry’s lullaby for then was the John Mayer album that Louis bought him as a gift.

Harry knows that he has to fill in a certain someone on the information. He has to tell Gemma that the man who used to haunt his dreams is.

“Harry! Are you aware of the time?” Gemma hisses through the phone

“Sorry, Gem, I couldn’t sleep. I…I need to tell you something.” Harry rasps with all his might as he tries not to drop the phone.

He hears a groan from Gemma’s side and chuckles breathily. She’s always been in love with sleep ever since they were children. And because she got children of her own, she and sleep had to break their long-term romance. Much like what she did when she was in uni. “Go on then, you prick. Tell me what this whole urgent thing is about if it’s that important.”

Harry almost ends the call. Is he really going to tell Gemma in the middle of the night or should he just wait until the morning? After all, it could just be his mind making everything a big hyperbole. But all doubts fade when Harry’s mind flashes images of the happy moments with Louis from when they were younger, their fights, their downfall, the years without hearing the man’s voice apart from the telly and the internet and the radio, and then this abrupt return in Harry’s life.

“H-he’s back, Gem.” Harry tries to say coherently. “Louis—he’s getting married and he wants me to plan his wedding.”

Harry hears a gasp and a murmur of, “Oh fuck” escape from Gemma but the announcement Harry, himself, made only occurs to him _now_. That’s why he wasn’t so frantic this morning, because things were still hard to grasp. But now his own words strike him and sink in.

Louis’s back and he’s getting married. Harry’s planning his wedding. And he's still in love with Louis. Oh fuck indeed.

+

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tomlinson. I’ve tried reaching Harry’s cell but he’s not answering. Maybe you and Ms. Calder can come back some time tomorrow. I’m sure Harry will be here, ready to work on whatever he’s compromised with you.” Sophie says, hiding the real worry from her voice. Harry’s very late for work—very late. He’s not one to be exactly punctual but he’s not the apathetic type either. It’s already noon, Wednesday—he’s three hours late for the meeting he committed to with Louis and Eleanor in the coffee shop downtown. There isn’t any sign of him in the café nor in the company’s headquarters.

Eleanor gives an understanding nod and a polite smile while Louis gives a good-mannered thanks. Sophie isn’t that great of an actress to hide her qualms about Harry from the keen-observer Louis is. He knows there has to be something wrong.

“Can I have Harry’s personal phone number then?” He blurts.

Sophie gives a sweet smile of sympathy before saying, “I’m sorry but I don’t think Mr. Styles would like that very much.”

“Sophie, stop with the formality. We’re both Harry’s friends. Maybe you even more than me—but the point is that I can sense that he’s not okay. I would like to talk to him.” Louis says. “You can trust me.” He's giving her that charming almost-smolder thing with her eyes and that smile nobody's ever learned to say no to.

“Louis, I’m sorry. I can’t do that to Harry.”

Eleanor appears beside her fiancé again and runs a calming hand down his neck. “Let’s go, love. We can go another day.”

Louis frowns and shakes his head, “You can go back to the car, El. This’ll take just a minute.”

She hesitantly lets go of Louis and goes back to the elevator. It’s always been difficult having a boyfriend who cares so much for his best friend—ex-best friend, if she’s being honest. Not that Eleanor ever used to think of competing against Harry for Louis’s attention years ago. She knew, even then, she’d lose at that so she never attempted. But years ago, she was more than happy when she found out that Louis had been defending their relationship and not his and Harry’s friendship. She didn’t want to feel elated about it, but she did once One Direction broke up. Call her selfish but had Harry tried to reconnect with Louis after the breakup, she would’ve gone to any length just to keep it from happening. She’d delete every text, every inbox message, manipulate everything. It would have been deceitful and generally, Eleanor wouldn’t do it. She doesn’t have the heart to, they’re all just mere ideas that never got to execution. Because Harry never did call, never did reach out. It left a heartbroken Louis for her to mend—but, at least, she was the one Louis ran to. Not Harry. Never Harry anymore. She never had to be intimidated by the fact that she would always be the second option.

Only when Zayn came by with news about Harry’s new rising star as an event’s organizer did Eleanor get the feeling again. Harry’d arranged Little Mix’s come-back party. Louis buzzed over seeing his old best friend for the first time in a long time. And what was Eleanor to feel? The guy that made her feel like the unwanted girlfriend—easily replaced, easily forgotten just like Hannah, Caroline, Danielle, Taylor, Sophia, Monica and Clarissa had been—for a period of time was coming back to their lives. But she let it happen anyway. The only thing she held on to was the sparkly ring on her finger—she is the bride, Harry’s just the wedding planner.

Louis frowns, “Sophie, please. I think Harry might have told you that we haven’t talked in a while. Well, after the break-up he really didn’t contact me or the boys. We thought he needed time to get back on his feet and find himself. Now, he’s successful and he—I’m going to bother him finally, just give me this. After all those years of holding back…I miss him, Sophie. He…he was my best friend.” Louis chuckles, shaking his head, “If I could have it my way, we’d still be present tense. But, like, that’s what happens isn’t it?” There’s a slight pause, “So please.” Louis’s not one to beg. But what is he to do? He wants to know if Harry’s okay. He’s missed out on too much already, he just wants his Harry. The one that used to carry him and spin him around. The one giggled at all his jokes, cuddled him at nights he couldn’t go to sleep, the Harry that took care of him and that let him be taken care of as well. 

Sophie rolls her mascara-applied ocean-blue eyes, “Tell him I didn’t give you this. Tell him you snooped through the drawers persistently as I went to the loo, alright?” Louis’s eager nod assures Sophie that giving him the number isn’t going to be the opposite of worth it.

Papers are handed, gratitude is given, and goodbyes are exchanged. There’s a small skip in Louis’s march as he approaches the car. “You look happy, have you got it?” Eleanor says as she gives another smile that she’d rather she didn’t.

Louis pecks her cheek in victory, “Yes.” He starts the car and handles the steering wheel to exit the parking lot.

“This isn’t the way home, babe.” She says.

 “I know. We’re going to Harry’s.” Louis says simply. Eleanor nods and rests her head on the window before coming to a decision of not doing this to herself anymore. She’s half of this relationship, she has more say in this than just smiling and giggling and looking good and letting Louis fuck her. “I’d rather we didn’t.”

“What?” Louis asks, eyebrows knitted despite his calm voice. “We haven’t been in contact with Harry for years. Don’t you think this is our chance? To win his trust back after all those years of complete distance?”

“ _Our_ chance?” Eleanor scoffs, “Louis, this is not _our_ chance! _I_ don’t want a chance at all. You’re the one who’s so eager for Harry. Let me go back home for God’s sake.”

Louis raises an eyebrow but keeps his eyes on the road, “He’s planning our wedding.”

“Oh god, Louis. Stop lying to me, stop lying to yourself. You know bloody well the reason why we’re driving over to his house is because you want to see how he is. Well, I don’t want to see how he is. I want to plan our wedding. And if you can’t give me that today, fine. Go check on Harry. But, at least, leave me out of it. Because he’s not my old best friend, Louis. None of my best friends have left me. And none of my best friends are resurfacing back into my life because _they have never left_. So just—fuck.”

Louis frowns at Eleanor’s outburst. Is this he wedding Bridezilla attitude his Mum has been warning him about striking now? “Is there something wrong with Harry?” Louis asks, voice thick with concern. He’s stopped the car to the side of the road, along some trees swaying with the pre-winter waft.

 _Is there nothing wrong with the way you treat him?_ Eleanor thinks to herself while giving Louis a tired sigh. She has her issues with Harry but that’s something to dwell on for another day. “I’m just—just drive me home, please.”

Louis gives an understanding nod, not wanting to upset her even more, and drives home. The whole drive is a bit silent, slightly awkward so he doesn’t expect it when Eleanor furrows her eyebrows once they’re in the driveway and Louis’s climbing out of his side, “I thought you were going to Harry’s,” she says, arms crossed tightly against her chest, “Well?”

Still in disbelief over his fiancée’s belligerence he says, “So you’re allowing me to go to Harry’s?”

Eleanor groans, “Can I do anything to stop you? No, right? So go.” She turns her back to clamber to their flat. Her teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek as the only thing to stop the tears from doing their thing. Louis contemplates between comforting Eleanor and asking what’s really wrong and going to Harry’s to find what’s wrong with him. He shrugs and concludes the latter option as best. He sends a text to his fiancée saying, _Thank u, babe, sorry i made u upset. Luv u. xx_ Louis knows his Eleanor and he knows she’s forgiving. He knows he can crawl back in bed later guilt-free, But for now, he has to see his Harry.

Harry’s slumped over the toilet, all of the contents of his stomach emptied over the ceramic bowl of the bathroom. He’s followed Sophie’s advice of sleeping all the sadness out. But days passed by and the pain just increased in his chest. He couldn’t obey the guidance his friend had given him and pathetically, he gave in. The previous night, he went out and did what he does best to mend himself. He drank, flirted, and hoped the hurt would subside. And it did, he forgot for a bit. But he ended up in a girl’s flat, pushing the poor stranger away because he found that he couldn’t even snog a person while intoxicated without having his mind flash Louis’s face. He ran away and luckily found his way back home. He let the songs drift him to sleep before the arrival of bile from his stomach disturbed his slumber and he had to race to the toilet.

Struggling, Harry stands up and holds his throbbing head. He eyes himself at the mirror over the sink and growls, _Look at you. Look at your choices. Look at how pathetic you’ve become. Broken and bitter. And alone. In love with someone who will never ever love you back._ He sniffles, _you’ll never get to hold him again. Never get to press soft kisses on his eyelids till he falls asleep. You haven’t done so in years. What makes you think you can now?_

The sound of the doorbell distracts Harry from his thoughts. Gathering himself, he tries to look his bes. Hoping it’s not Gemma. Because he cannot deal with incessant nagging with his head pounding.

Despite there being no sunlight today, Harry has to narrow his eyes as he answers the door.

“Louis.” Harry gasps.

Louis flashes Harry a calm smile, “Hi, Haz.” He says carefully. “El and I went to the café and you weren’t there or at HQ. I got worried.” Harry nods and opens the door wider to let Louis in.

The house looks so much like Louis knows the Harry Styles he once knew would live in. It’s wide and there aren’t a lot of walls to separate the kitchen and living room…but it’s really spacious, really cozy. Tidy but a few pieces out of place to add rustic attitude. A guitar on the wall of the living room, bookshelves filled with paperbacks of big and small variatons, a coffee table with a wooden bowl in the center that holds keys, a fireplace that has picture frames on top filled with images of Harry with people Louis knows are closest to Harry. On the walls hang pictures of the big moments in Harry’s life Louis wasn’t there to witness; like Harry’s graduation from university. What catches Louis’s eyes is the enormous picture frame on the wall of the dining room. It has the words, _Still a little of your song in my ear._ Louis knows what song it’sfrom: Damien Rice’s _Cannonball._

Harry clears his throat, which makes Louis end his trance of admiration for the house whose owner’s personality made his insides feel warm and familiar. “Erm, I’m sorry I couldn’t go. I had a bit of a rough night previously. Forgot it was a weeknight, drank a little too much.” Harry explains before asking, “Where’s Eleanor?”

“She’s my fiancée, not my tail.” Louis chuckles in amusement before being led by Harry to the couch. “Right,” Harry drawls, “Uh, would you like tea?”

Louis smiles at Harry, “Mate, between the two of us, you look more like the one who needs tea in their system.”

Harry chuckles, subtly rubbing his temples as they pounded at the small laugh he did. “So you’re not here for my tea-making skills. What can I do for you then?” He surrenders to the chair near him while trying to look professional. Walls up and all that shit.

“Haz, you’re not fooling anyone.” Louis chuckles, confusing Harry, “You can’t do anything for me. At least, not in this state. First off, you’ve got a hangover. Though you try hiding it, I can see it all over your face. Second, there’s vomit on your shirt. Third, you probably need some aspirin for your head. Would you like me to go get you some?”  

That oddly memorable feeling of being taken care of by Louis flies in the air, hovering over Harry before slowly intruding into his chest. He wants to reach for booze again, he wants to forget again. But unlike the past years, Louis’s not just a memory he wants to wash away. Louis’s actually in his house, poking at his comfort zone, taunting him with the little holes he could put without being aware of it.

It reminds him of evenings of partying too much with Nick and their—as Louis put it—too indie friends that almost always results into Harry passed out over the toilet, spewing out as if there were a river of vomit in his six-foot long body. Louis would always be there, holding his hair back, wiping his face with a wet flannel. He’d thought of it as pathetic, but Louis never did. He’d apologize the next day but Louis would just smile at him, tell him that that was what best friends were for. Harry would frown, but not because Louis denied acceptance of his apology. It’s because that’s _it._ They’re _best friends_.

He should’ve just seized what he could get back then. If he had known that just a year after that era, there would be no _best friends_ even.

Harry just nods, closing his eyes and telling Louis where to get the aspirin. The older man returns with the medicine and a glass of water. Smiling thankfully, Harry takes what was given. “I-I’m sorry.”

Louis shakes his head, “S’alright, mate.” There’s a pause while Harry drinks and Louis gathers up the courage to say it, “But you would telling me the truth?” He draws in a breath of air, “I mean, I know you tend to forget what day it really is and you might’ve forgotten that last night was not Friday but I know you never drink too much unless it’s at your own house with a small group of friends or because you’ve got something you want to forget.”

Harry chuckles in irritated amusement, “Did you hand me the aspirin just so I can answer a question as head-pounding as that?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I don’t want to pry if you’ve got personal problems.”

 _Well_. He’d known that staying away from his best mates would result to their relationship, how they got on, to change but he didn’t expect that it would feel this way. Louis _not_ prying made Harry reminiscent. It was always Louis who asked even if Harry was already annoyed. Always he trying to know what was really going _stubbornly_. The Louis that Harry fell for always pried, the Louis that Harry has as his best friend always pried. This was still that Louis. It just isn’t Harry’s Louis anymore since, well, Harry did disappear from them for a long time.

Louis doesn’t receive an answer. Only Harry, with his eyes still closed, cringing. Pain obviously etched on his face. Harry probably doesn’t know he’s showing it all but Louis strokes his cheek to comfort, he gasps.

“I’ve missed you, you know.” Louis lets slip.

Harry sighs, “I can’t bring myself to say the opposite, Lou.”

Louis only nods and retrieves his hand slowly, not wanting to push buttons that could cause his hung-over friend distress. He knows there’s a reason why Harry hasn’t kept contact all these years. He just doesn’t know what it is specifically. Harry isn’t the type of person to let himself purposely slide off a friendship or relationship just because its initial reason to stick together failed, he would try to pick up the pieces and do with what he has. Harry negotiates, never neglects. Louis’s insides aches as he thinks that perhaps one of the boys had done something to Harry—unintentionally or not—that hurt him greatly.

“Did something happen? W-with the lads and you?” Blame Louis’s yearning for Harry to open up for his choice of the letting the question out mindlessly.

Harry sighs, Louis isn’t dumb. Of course he’d know there has to be a motive, an explanation, for the loss of contact. Harry’s never been a good liar. But ever since he fell in love with Louis, he’s had some practice. “Nothing happened. I just—I guess—I needed to take a breath? I need break from the, erm—”

“Don’t give me that shit, Haz. Out of all the boys, you were the one who loved performing and meeting fans the most. Even on your worst days, you’d never let the fans suffer along with you.”

Harry snaps, “Look, my head is pounding and my stomach needs breakfast…or lunch—whatever time of day it is. Please leave if all you’re going to do is dwell on something that happened a long time ago. Quite frankly, you haven’t cared the past few years. I don’t need you bothering me at this time. I just—I don’t need you.”

Louis frowns at Harry’s words—it hurts once he hears Harry say _I don’t need you_ —and started to stand up from his seat. Harry hears the squeak of the couch despite his closed eyes, announcing that the love of his life was leaving in a saddened state because of his secrets.

“L-Louis, look, I didn’t mean to say it like that—”

Louis gives Harry a shake of his head, “I-I get it, Haz. You don’t need me. I just can’t handle thinking that who used to be my best friend is now a man and, well, he doesn’t need—hasn’t been needing—me anymore.” He draws in a long shaky breath, trying hard to block the sting of rejection. “Did _I_ do something wrong?” Louis finally asks, straight to the point.

Harry looks up at Louis then stands up as well. Louis almost forgot about how tall Harry really is, glad he’s being reminded. He could just remember being on his tiptoes just to whisper to Harry or pulling Harry’s ear to his mouth’s level. “Harry sighs tiredly, “You didn’t,” He lies.

“I cared, you know.” Louis whispers. “I tried to maintain contact the first two years until the others told me to stop…told me you weren’t coming back—to give you time, at least. You never answered my calls, texts, tweets, e-mails…”

Harry can see the genuine sadness in Louis’s blue eyes, “As hard as it is to believe, I just didn’t want it anymore.” He lies once again.

Louis furrows his eyebrows in curiosity and confusion, “You didn’t want…what? The fame, the girls, the rumors?” He acknowledges, despite the deeper feeling in his gut saying, _he’s lying. The twat is lying. You know him, Louis. You know him better than anyone else._ But another voice lets him give in by saying, _Or, at least, you knew him._

Harry wants to tell him—craves to be honest. He cares, Louis cares. He’s here and he’s…he’s here for a wedding. _And it’s Eleanor, isn’t it?_ “Yeah, that.” He lies despite wanting to say, _No Lou, I didn’t want you tormenting me unknowingly. Being so goddamn ignorant, defending your girlfriend, forgetting about me._

Louis nods and puts a hand on Harry’s almost-hard-to-reach shoulder, “Well, can we start over? Friends? Again. Please. I really…I really have missed you, Harry.” He hauls a quick gust of breathe in, “You’re my best mate and I don’t think I’d take losing you again.”

Harry gives a small smile, “You’re not losing me, I swear. You…you just got me back.” He grins wider, it may or may not be genuine.

Louis takes Harry in for an embrace, wraps his arms around Harry’s torso while Harry does the same, leaning his head on Louis’s. The familiar scent of home hits him. Harry revels in the fact that this is his Louis; he has him in his arms again. A small part of him is terrified that he will get hurt since he’s in love with Louis and the man’s getting married but mostly, he doesn’t care. He’d cherish the moments, he just really misses this.

“So glad to have my brother back, man.” Louis cheers as soon as they pull apart.

Harry chuckles, “Definitely brothers.”

He lies.

+

_“Harry, I’m not going anywhere that far! I’m moving in with El! Not dying.” Louis said as he yelled from behind the door of Harry’s room. The younger boy hadn’t come out since Louis said he was moving out two days ago except for getting cereal and milk from the fridge whenever he was sure Louis was out._

_Harry couldn’t help but bite his lip harder, trying not to end up in a sobbing mess. Louis didn’t understand how Harry felt. He didn’t understand that Harry was having a difficult time processing that he had been living with the love of his life for almost four years yet he didn’t have the guts, even now, to confess._

_Louis sighed tiredly as he gave up on trying to get his best friend out of the room. He’d been shouting for about ten minutes and Harry still wasn’t showing any signs that he was in the room. A streak of worry found its way to Louis’s head as he imagined Harry having slipped on something, hitting his head, and Louis not there to help him up as he bled to his death. But as Louis hurriedly turned the key in the knob, the sight broke his heart even more than the terrible scenario he’d mentally built. It was Harry sitting on his bed, curled up with a comforter around him. The corners around his eyes were red and puffy from all the crying. What usually was a bouncy mop of curls was now damp and covering his face. Louis instantly ran to his best friend’s side, jumping on the bed they’d made a memories worth tiring themselves by playfully bouncing on, and wrapping his arms around Harry._

_“L-Lou…am I not good enough a housemate anymore?” Harry muttered through his tears._

_Louis shook his head as he made Harry face him by cupping the sides of the boy’s face. “Don’t say that! Harry, you know this isn’t about you! This is about me wanting to—”_

_“Wanting to leave.”_

_“But I’m not leaving because I want to get away from you. I’m leaving because I love Eleanor and we want to take it to the—”_

_“You chose her over me.”_

_“Harry, when you get a girlfriend you’ve gone very steady with—”_

_“I will never choose you over her.”_

_“Exactly—”_

_“Because you won’t be there anyway. And what’s the point of choosing someone who’s moved out?”_

_“Haz—”_

_“Lou…”_

_“Stop being a child.”_

+

“Stop being a child, Harold. Stop whining. Everything looks nice.” Louis says as he rubs Harry’s back soothingly. Harry’s been very busy preparing his dining table. Eleanor, Jay, Dan, and Louis’s sisters were coming over for lunch.

 “But, Lou, I have to…”

“You have to go change into more presentable clothes and stop worrying because everything’s perfect and they’ll be here in an hour.”

Harry sighs in defeat as he goes into his bedroom. He spots the clothes Louis laid out for him and chuckles, “Louis, I’m kind of a grown man. I don’t think I need my friends choosing my clothes for me.”

Louis enters the room and grins at Harry, “Just go get changed and thank me later.”

Harry complies with Louis’s command and exits the room, presenting himself to Louis later on as if on a runway. “How do I look?” His voice filled with projection, feigning sophistication.

 “Quite dashing.” Louis comments as he fixes the collar of Harry’s shirt.

Harry can’t resist but rest his chin on the top of Louis’s head. “M’still so much taller than you.”

Louis sighs and rolls his eyes, “Does it matter who’s taller? At least my love life’s not a jungle.”

Harry laughs loudly and flashes Louis a toothy grin before playfully saying, “ _You_ were my love life, remember?”

Louis laughs thinking nothing more of his best friend’s remark.  He brushes a hand along Harry’s neck and says, “Remember the love bites?”

Harry bites his lower lip and says, “I actually don’t anymore. Mind making me remember?” He stretches his neck a bit while chuckling.

Louis sighs and sniffs Harry’s neck, “I like your aftershave.” He’s slowly being enticed by the seductive smell that Harry still has after all these years and almost presses an open-mouthed kiss on the skin of Harry’s neck before he furrows his eyebrows in remembrance of what he’s about to do and who he’s doing it with.

“Eleanor.” Louis mumbles.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, “Erm, she’s not here yet. Do you want to call—”

“N-no, Eleanor’s my fiancée. And I can’t do this to her.”

“Do what?” Harry says with a more confused tone. As far as this was to Louis, it’s platonic, right? A joke they used to do when they were younger. They’re reliving a joke is all?

Louis stares at Harry as he remembers that this guy is his best friend. And that they used to do this a lot. Nothing should change. Except for how Eleanor had already admitted to being jealous all those times. But like Harry said, _she’s not here yet._

Harry snaps his fingers in front of Louis’s gaze and pulls away from their bodies’ intimacy, “I was just being playful. Wow, since when have you been so uptight—is it because I like guys?”

The older man frowns as he finds that Harry has distanced himself. Upset at how he bothered their bonding time. “I’m sorry. I-it’s just, well, once you’re engaged, you’ll know what it feels like.”

Harry chuckles bitterly, “M’never going to get engaged.” Changing the subject.

Louis frowns and says, “Don’t put yourself down, Haz.”

“I’m not kidding. I’m not going to get married.”

“But you used to say you wanted a family and all that shit.”

“Ah, used to.”

“Can I ask why?”

“The only person I wanted to marry…is, well, not available anymore.”

Louis looks down and mentally frowns at the thought that he wasn’t there to be the shoulder for Harry to cry on when the younger had gotten his heart broken so profoundly as to decide to _never_ marrying. “I’m sure there are others out there, Haz.”

Harry chuckled, “None.” His mouth turns into that flat line he does when he’s almost uncomfortoable.

“So what’s your plan?”

“Get rich, take a fuck-ton of photos, play with my godchildren/nephews/nieces, pass my wealth onto them, then die.”

Louis laughs, “Are you serious?”

Harry chuckles and raises his eyebrows. It’s his turn to use the ‘you’ll know what it feels like’ card. “Once you’ve gotten the love of your life snatched from you, you’ll know what it feels like.”

+

“Fizz, pass the potatoes please.” Louis’s mum asks before she’s handed the dish. “So, Harry,” She starts once the platter’s in her hands and she’s scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate, “I heard you’re planning El and Lou’s wedding, is that right?” She smiles.

Harry nods while forking a bite of lettuce into his mouth, “Yeah, they just waltzed into my office, I didn’t see a need to not do it for them, you know? So I said yeah.”

Eleanor then attaches her hand onto Louis’s arm and giggles, “And we’re just so happy that you’re doing this for us, Haz.” Louis smiles at his bride-to-be for a moment before glancing at Harry. “I’m pretty sure Harry’s going to make it special for us. I mean, he knows Louis so well…he knows what Louis wants.” Eleanor says, sending Harry another honest smile. _Note to self,_ Harry says, _try actually liking Eleanor—like genuinely._ Then afterwards, _maybe I should start by following her on twitter._

The thought of Louis marrying someone other than him strikes again. He has to try hard to pry his eyes from seeing how Louis’s hand was gently on Eleanor’s thigh. He bites his lip and responds, “Yeah, I guess. As long as Louis doesn’t nag at me.” He teases. Because if there’s one thing he isn’t going to let Eleanor or anyone else take from him, it’s the competence to make Louis wear that smile he would whenever Harry’d joke or tease. Cute, tiny creases—made deeper by time—budding on the skin near his thirst-quenching blue eyes.

Louis raises his eyebrows playfully and says, “I don’t nag.”

Harry chuckles, “Yeah, you do. I reckon you’d have your Bridezilla moments before Eleanor has hers.”

The girls laugh along, much to Louis’s fake rage. “I just know what I want, alright, Hazza? Can’t blame me for having my dream wedding dreamed out since I was six.”

+

“Do you think Eleanor really needs _all_ of these magazines?” Louis asks as he stacks in lifestyle and bridal magazines into their basket. He and Harry are in a book shop, after Harry insisted on spending time with Louis by buying magazines they might need along the way for references. Harry has a pile in his office but he has to keep up to date and the ones in his office have been from two months ago.

“Yes, Lou.” Harry rolls his eyes, “You know you need them too.”

Louis shakes his head, “Me? Yeah, right. I already know what I want—”

“No, Lou, we will not have a Power Rangers-themed wedding for you and Eleanor.”

Louis’s body shakes with laughter as he playfully hits Harry’s stomach, “Not that, wanker.”

Harry admires the way the crinkles by Louis’s eyes show up. The same crinkles that made getting up, hiding in the closet, and watching the man he loved love someone else, worth it every day back when he was younger. Only when that genuine happiness disappeared did Harry grow tired of doing all the concealing bullshit and surrendered. And now it’s back. Because Louis’s back.

Harry, after leaving their lives, never thought he’d see those beautiful lines on the expanse of the skin right by Louis’s stunning eyes again. The eyes that make Harry feel a bit nostalgic. He remembers brushing his fingers against those lines, getting lost in those eyes. Then he remembers how Louis stilled at Harry’s touch and pulled away after realizing that the proximity of their bodies could be counted as non-platonic. That’s when Harry snaps out of his trance and remembers that he’s with Louis. Louis who hasn’t returned only as his best friend but also as his client. As the organizer.

In Louis’s wedding.

With Eleanor.

Not him.

“I just don’t want you making a mistake, Lou. I’ve got a motto with my clients. It’s YOWO, you’re only wed once.” Harry says, “Of course, one client of mine doesn’t absorb it. He’s a regular. And being a wedding planner, a ‘regular’ isn’t a nice term, innit? But he’s old, so who am I to scold him for his pimp-ish ways?”

Louis laughs at Harry’s lame motto but admires Harry’s ways, “You’re horrid.” He bluntly says while starting to head off to another aisle.

“But you love me.” Harry says chuckling.

The older man turns around and gives Harry a calming smirk, “That, I do.”

Harry chuckles before casting his eyes to the floor, afraid of losing it in Louis’s eyes again. Refraining himself from blushing furiously which would start a chain of unwanted questions.

+

_“Lou? Louis!” Harry giggled, before hiding back in the closet. Literally. Louis had invited him over to his new flat. When Harry had found out Eleanor had a party to attend to and couldn’t be of any assistance while Harry visited their new flat, the curly-haired boy was gleeful. It meant he could be playful and childish with Louis. The boy’s always so much more serious when his girlfriend’s around._

_Louis was searching for him. They didn’t play hide-and-seek often._

_Sometimes it’s tag, track-and-field, or even badminton rackets turned to swords._

_“Harry! Eleanor will be here any minute. I don’t know how to tell her—” Harry came out in that instant at the thought of Eleanor eyeing them strangely, cutting Louis off with a cheeky, “You don’t know how to tell her you’re homosexual and very in love with Zayn?”_

_“I was going to say that I didn’t know how to tell her that my best friend is an immature bastard who likes playing things my twin sisters don’t even play anymore but yeah, that too.” Louis giggled before adding, “But, Haz, you’re wrong.”_

_“Wrong?”_

_“I’m homo but I’m not in love with Zayn.” Louis drew himself nearer and then looked Harry intently in the eyes, “I’m in love with you, remember?”_

_Harry almost chocked on air but he hid it with fake chuckles. He stumbled nervously toward the closet and had to hold on to the door to keep from falling._

_“No, Haz, the screws on that aren’t—” The cabinet shutter crashed onto some of Eleanor’s shoes—which were still in boxes, thank God—avoiding Harry’s collapsed body. “—tight yet.”_

_Harry’s eyes widened after his fall, his gaze followed the mess he made. “Oh my god, Louis! I’m so sorry.”_

_“For fuck’s sake, Harry! Can’t we be grownups for a while?” Louis yelled as he ran a hand through his already tousled brown hair._

_Harry tried his best not to let his lips quiver or his tears to well up in his eyes. It would be the contrary of what Louis wanted. “I-I’m so sorry, Lou. I’ll tell Eleanor myself…and screw it back again. If the door’s been damaged, I’ll take care of it, I swear!”_

_Louis didn’t miss a bit. He could see it. Harry and his wide, green eyes. Outside was a grown man casually asking his mate for forgiveness for having messed up his friend’s closet shutters. But inside was a precious little boy who broke his best friend’s favorite toy ready to cry as soon as his best friend starts ignoring him though it was his fault._

_“Haz…”_

_“I’m not kidding! I can fix doors, Lou! Robin and Mike taught me a thing or two—”_

_“Haz!”_

_“What?”_

_“Just stop talking…” Louis neared Harry and gave his hand to help him up. “Stand up.”_

_Harry gulped nervously, he guessed that maybe he deserved this. Whatever Louis was going to do him._

_Once Harry was still and standing tall, Louis looked at him and said, “I’m sorry I yelled.”_

_Harry furrowed his eyebrows and said, “It’s okay. It was my fault. I’m not sad ‘cause you yelled…I’m twenty one years old—”Louis knew better._

_He just wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and whispered into Harry’s ears. “You are an idiot.”_

_Harry sighed in relief and said, “Yeah, but you love me.”_

_Louis shook his head and thought,_ why am I friends with this moron? _Before chuckling and saying sarcastically, “Oh, I do.” But he meant it. Harry meant a lot to him._

+

The next day, Eleanor and Harry are in the curly-haired man’s office. Louis isn’t with them because he has a promotional video to shoot.

“So we settle with 80 k?” Harry says, referring to their budget for the expenses for the wedding.

Eleanor giggles, “Yeah, but if you think one of our plans have to be held back because of it, we could just push through with more.

Harry shakes his head, “Actually, setting a strict budget will help. It’ll ease our options so we wouldn’t be too greedy and have our minds set on what we really want.”

She smiles and says, “Hmm, you’re probably right.” Sighing, she looks Harry in the eyes, “What would be of us if it weren’t for you, Harold?” The nickname doesn’t sound so right. It slid of her tongue correctly, yes. No tinge of venom or bitterness blended within, yes. _But it just doesn’t seem right when it comes from Eleanor_ , thinks Harry.

A knock on the door makes Eleanor turn her head to the door and makes Harry look up. “Who is it?” He asks.

An obviously fake high-pitched voice says, “Girl scout cookies!!!” And Harry knows it’s Louis. Actually, both he and El know. _Ah, when the hopeless lover and the fiancée unite_. That’s probably why they both let out, “Louis!” in a patronizing tone at the same time.

Louis comes, an amused and amazed look on his face, “Wow, I guess if you put my best friend and my girlfriend in the same room, it’d just be crazy Louisville. Weird shit.”

Eleanor chuckles as Louis drops a peck on her cheek with a, “Hi, love.” He wraps his arms around Harry and says, “Hey, mate.” _Wait—I don’t get a kiss?_

He sits down on his usual position and says, “So have the financial stuff been settled? I only want the fun part of picking out flowers and color themes.” He jokes.

“Harry! You’re on the newspaper today!” Sophie exclaims excitedly as she barges into Harry’s office before prying her eyes off the piece of paper in her hands and then seeing that Harry’s guests haven’t left yet. _And she calls herself an attentive receptionist_. “Didn’t mean to intrude,” she apologizes.

 “Sophie, it’s alright.” Eleanor says, her voice as friendly as a pre-school teacher’s, but not as patronizing as that. “Any friend of Harry’s is a friend of ours.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion before asking, “Why would _I_  be in the newspapers this early?” He turns to Louis and asks, “Have you released that I’m going to plan your wedding yet?”

Louis shakes his head, “No. Only my manager and El’s family and mine.”

 “You should see this first, Haz.” The blonde says as she puts the newspaper down on the table.

 **Larry Stylinson Back Together Again?** , it reads. Harry palms his eyes and sees the not-so-HD-but-clear-enough pictures of him and Louis walking in the bookshop the other day, “Shit.” He already doesn’t like a lot of attention, it’s worse if it’s “boy band” attention.

And if the title doesn’t remind him enough of the skepticism from back in the day, the pictures sure do. It could’ve been the exact moment Harry decided to admire Louis’s smile or maybe it was just a random moment and Harry’s just very in love. Whatever it was, it’s that look the fans used to call _heart eyes_. He can’t believe it. He fucking can’t believe that history is about to repeat itself.

+

February 08, 2009…

_“Best birthday gift ever.” Harry said for probably the billionth time as he jumped up and down to Talk You Down, his favorite song off the The Script album, and the opening song for the show. Gemma smiled at him. She and her mum had gotten Harry concert tickets to this band that Harry had been raving about. At first, Harry thought he was just getting an iPod or perhaps a really quality desk set. Not that he wouldn’t have been thankful either way. An iPod would be really nice despite his current iPod not being older than two years—still in perfect condition—and a desk set could’ve helped in organizing his school stuff so that he wouldn’t have to want to pull his hair out every time he crammed for his school work. But this..this was just grand. He loved The Script. Their songs were those ones you could play while walking and you’d  feel like one for the movies or the telly shows in an instant._

_“Yeah, yeah, stop being a sap.” Gemma chuckled, rolling her eyes. She was trying to play it cool—despite having cracked earlier at the party when she returned Harry’s crushing embrace—because her boyfriend came with them and she’d always seemed like this girl too indie for sentimental shit. Having her brother’s emotions as her weakness would be, well, seemed kind lame, innit?_

_Danny O’Donoghue looked incredibly smashing in a black T-shirt and a plain blazer, matched with jeans. If Harry were to be a performer one day, he’d want to wear something just like that. He was planning on trying out for the X-factor next year. His mum said that he was too young to audition this year. (“But, mum, that one guy auditioned and he was only 14!” “That’s him. He’s not my son and I’m not his mother. You, on the other hand, are my fourteen-year-old baby. I promise, when you’re sixteen, I’ll let you.”)_

_Everyone told him he was good at singing. He was a vocalist for their band, White Eskimo, after all. They once sang at Will’s cousin’s wedding. They did well, got paid, and took the leftover pints with them to have drinks in Alex’s backyard right after. They were thirteen and they were naïve._

_+_

_“I can’t believe you got us late!” Louis exclaimed to his friends, Stan and Carl. They insisted on a game of footie before getting ready for the show. Now, the show has started since fifteen minutes ago but they were still under the black shed right in front of the entrance of the arena._

_“Your fault for saying yes to a game, mate.” Carl said, chuckling alongside Stan._

_Louis rolled his eyes. Of course, the two didn’t care. They were just coming to the show with Louis because they had nothing better to do. While Louis was here purely for The Script. Now, he wouldn’t say he was a music junkie. But his iPod could be filled with what ranges from The Saturdays to The Fray. And truth be told, he had some Jonas Brothers in it too. Four sisters. What are you gonna do?_

_But his love for music—and choosing to watch live shows over just not bothering—sprouted out when he got cast as Danny Zuko in their school production of Grease. He got to sing and act. Naturally, he loved acting. He was cast twice as an extra, when he had been younger, in a tv show. Best twenty seconds of his life. And he was going to Drama school the next year. But singing had been new for him. And it just…performing was a wonderful thing. He wanted to do it more. Wanted to explore singing. Probably go for X-factor. Just to see what the experts will say._

_He was kicked out of his trance as they entered the arena itself. The music was blasting as they went to the row they were in. A bit up at the front. Of course, the music had to be blasting. It’s a concert._

_The three of them pressed against clammy bodies that barely let them squeeze through._

_+_

_There was a small intermission as the band prepared and summat. The lights were going mad, Harry felt like he was drunk. Louis felt like he should’ve brought something to eat like his mum told him to._

_The drums were still notably playing. Harry smiled up at the stage, he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had wasted his savings for his girlfriend’s birthday gift. Well, ex girlfriend. And he thought he wouldn’t be able to see The Script live then._

_Louis smiled at his phone, Hannah had texted a cute little message again. They weren’t dating. Well, they kind of were. Not officially yet, but near that. And she was a good girl, probably too good for Louis._

_Harry closed his eyes. Trying to forget the memory of the worst feeling he’d had in his life. When he found out he liked boys and Meg found out and his heart broke in two. Because Harry Styles wasn’t gay, he was bi. And Meg didn’t need to be a homophobic bitch._

_Louis closed his eyes. Taking in a breath. Wincing at the pungent smell of sweat and smoke from the fog machine. His life was going to be brilliant. Hannah, Drama school, X-factor. He could feel it._

_Harry then opened his eyes. It was done. Meg’s a bitch. Probably can’t even hook up with as much guys as Harry will hook up with in the future. He needed a new beginning._

_Louis chuckled as he opened his eyes, luckily Stan and Carl were too busy that they hadn’t noticed the moment Louis was having. He just smiled at them and they smiled back. He was going to have a new beginning._

_And as the two looked around, their eyes wandering while the drums made a transition, the bodies started bouncing again in enthusiasm, voices shrieking wildly._

_“Going back to the corner where I first saw you…”_

_Harry spotted blue eyes. Louis spotted green. Harry saw a random smile that may or may not have been for him. And Louis witnessed dimples come to life._

_“…I’m not moving…”_

_+_

September 4, 2023

_“Oh, this song is ancient.” Harry said to his boss as the band they hired played The Script’s The Man Who Can’t Be Moved._

_Robert rolled his eyes to that and replied, “Just imagine how old I must feel. I don’t even know this song yet you already call it ancient.” Harry chuckled at Robert’s remark and patted his shoulder as if he meant no offense with the ‘ancient’ comment._

_“I used to love this song so much. Loved the band too. Too bad they broke up.” He said as he checked off from the list attached to his clipboard the requirements for the Cannes’s Festival after-party that a big-shot English producer paid them to throw. Almost every head organizer was here, the company really didn’t want to mess up. Even Harry! He was a wedding specialist yet he was working on a party, meh, it was just like a big reception._

_“Well, I know a certain band that broke despite their 15 million fanbase.” Robert said, a knowing look worn on his wrinkled face. At first, Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at that. Not knowing what Robert was going on about. Before he realized…Ah, yes. One Direction._

_Harry just chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes stayed on the list. “Don’t pity that certain band. It was a fall-out from the start.”_

_“What? You mean the friendship wasn’t real?” Robert gasped overdramatically._

_“Oh, the friendship was too real. That was the problem.”_

_“Ah, couldn’t keep the professional from the personal, I see. And that is why we have an agreement in the office. No dating with co-workers.”_

_“You don’t need to remind me. I’ve learned a lot from my last job, sir.” Harry and Robert erupted in laughter. Because, really, he did learn a lot from his last job._

_+_

_“Meeka!” Eleanor exclaimed excitedly as she pecked the cheek of this girl whom she really wasn’t friends with. She was the wife of the producer who was throwing this bash._

_“Eleanor! I’ve missed you.” Meeka said before her eyes landed on the star of her husband’s latest box office hit. “Louis, darling! You just get more handsome every time I see you.”_

_“Meeka, please, you’ve been saying that to the poster on your wall for years!” Christian Fenton, Meeka’s husband, joked. “Please, Louis, have a glass.” He said as the waiter passed by with a tray of tall glasses of champagne._

_Louis wrapped his fingers around one, smiling. There was a band on stage playing All Fall Down by One Republic. Cocktail tables all around the room being surrounded by either people who were known,  who wanted to be known, or who were forced by their managers to be here._

_“How was the second honeymoon?” Louis heard Eleanor ask the producer and his spouse. These were the moments that made Louis so grateful for Eleanor. She knew how to talk to people, how to socialize, how to party. Louis used to. But that was when he was younger. When parties involved the people he really cared for. Not just people he could call his friends because he needed them to get him to the top and they needed him to stay on top for them._

_Christian went on about how this island in an archipelago in South East Asia was absolutely lovely. White sand, good sun, lovely food, friendly people. The usual commentary about a trip to a beach in another country. Ugh, middle-aged people and their mid-life crises._

_When Meeka was just concluding her story about having her hair braided like “the ones in Jamaica?” a man that looked just as old as Christian, if not older, greeted the producer._

_“Eleanor, Louis, meet Robert. His event’s agency is the one that did all this magic in so little time. Wonderful, innit?” Meeka said, not even having been able to finish her previous story because her husband wanted them to introduce this Robert guy._

_“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Tomlinson. Your band mate has told me a lot about you.” Robert slipped a knowing smirk on his face._

_“Band mate?” Louis asked, clearly confused. “Didn’t know the boys would be here.”_

_Eleanor knew. She knew what Robert was talking about. She figured Robert worked with Harry and she figured Harry was here. “Oh, but, love, Niall said he might come by, right?”_

_“Oh, I don’t know any Niall’s. Well, I do. My sister married an Irish man and Niall’s a pretty common name there.” Robert said, smiling._ Okay… _Louis thinks,_ bit of irrelevant banter. Nothing new in the industry.

_“Right…” Louis said awkwardly. Eleanor just gulped nervously. Wondering how Louis hasn’t figured it out yet. Nevertheless, she was kind of glad because of that. Even though she despised herself for it. (“You are the girlfriend! The fact that the male best friend makes you feel like this is…well, wow. So just…don’t, okay? Don’t have insecurities because of Harry. You have things that only you can give Louis, alright?” Lani had said a few years back, before the disbandment. Eleanor only nodded.)_

_“I meant Harry.” Robert blurted out. That pulled Eleanor out of her trance. She stared at her boyfriend, wondering what was running through his mind._

_“Oh.” Louis said, face blank and expressionless. “Tell him I said hi, I guess.”_

_That was it? No ‘he’s here?’ ‘can you tell him that I’m here?’ ‘do you think you can tell me where he is?’. No yearning for the best friend he lost and never heard of again until now?_

_Maybe Louis was content with everything._

_Eleanor smiled. She was the reason for Louis’s contentment, no one else. No more Harry. And with the arm around her waist that showered her with confirmation of the source of her glee and confidence, she couldn’t feel any happier than she already was._

_But in truth, Louis wasn’t holding her tightly. He was just frozen, too broken over thinking if it’s too late to ask Robert for Harry._

_+_

_Louis’s eyes wandered around the halls. They were asked to sit down because Christian was going to make his closing remarks. This was the only time that he could let his eyes roam without anyone having to ask if there’s something or someone he was looking for._

_In all honesty, he wanted to ask Robert where Harry was. But that would spark up speculation. The Fentons would wonder if the articles were lying. If the One Direction boys really were bitter after the break-up. He couldn’t do that to Niall, Zayn, and Liam. The four of them were still as close as before. They still hung out like proper mates. But Harry…He couldn’t let the tabloids make the three other boys be pulled into trouble again when they learn that One Direction weren’t as in peace as they wanted to be._

_Huh, it was just like before. Just like when the Larry rumors were so intense. When Harry started looking sadder during shows. When Louis started looking torn during shows. Barely any attention was given to Niall, Liam, and Zayn. And that, combined with the stress, caused their perfect little family to completely crumble. From one crack that started with Louis and Harry emanated a giant hole that destroyed Niall, Liam and Zayn._

_He wondered, though. If he would spot Harry here tonight, what would he say? What would he do? How would it feel? Would his heart warm in the thought that Harry was so close? Or would his heart break in the fact that Harry had been so far?_

_He was lost in his thoughts, his eyes darted to his lap sadly. He couldn’t care less about what Christian was saying. All he could hear was the loud regret he used to feel all the time when it was just right after the breakup. He could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve done something. Harry would’ve been with them, with him._

_“So ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the last few slow dances before going home. Oh, and if you’ve had too much fun, don’t let the car run. Hail a cab, good night, everyone.” Christian said before climbing down the stage._

_The band started to play a familiar tune. The first few tugs on the guitar strings tugged on Louis’s heart strings. He knew there was something to this song. He was too much of a mess to remember what it was. It’d been years since he last heard this. It only hit him at, “..’Cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me…”_

_He was smiling. He wanted to cry, to laugh, to call Harry._

_“You alright, love?” Eleanor asked, causing Louis to look up._

_“Yep.”_

_And as Louis’s smile faltered upon seeing Eleanor look away, someone a few tables away from him also had wandering eyes, looking for Louis. Wondering whether he would still have that longing for something he lost but never had. He was just about to give up, about to look down. But fate had other plans._

_Harry spotted blue eyes. Louis spotted green. Harry saw a random smile that may or may not have been for him. And Louis witnessed dimples come to life._

+

“May 13, 2025.” Eleanor sighs dreamily as she sits back on the red couch in Harry’s office. They’re setting up the date, booking venue, brainwashing over the type of wedding, and arranging the guest list as soon as possible. After Harry calls the venues he always books for his clients, he lists down the dates available and makes Eleanor and Louis choose a time between a year from now and eight months from now. They end up choosing the one with the twelve-month interval, much to Harry’s pleasure. It would mean more time in getting over this long phase for Louis Tomlinson. This long, long phase.

Louis and Eleanor are both Christian. Eleanor’s Roman Catholic to be exact. Her parents got married in a chapel and France and just like every other bride, she wants her romantic fairytale to start just like her parents’ did. “But…babe, France? That’s kind of…” Louis starts.

“Just a train away. Please, Lou. I really want it to be there. Besides, we’re already going up there this weekend. We’ve called up the chapel and everything. The actual priest who brought my parents together is still alive and kicking. Isn’t that fantastic?” She reasons, a pleading look on her face. Surprising Harry because usually, Eleanor just takes in what Louis says or suggests without argument or pleading.

Louis presses a surrendering smile on his face and pecks her cheek. Harry has to subtly turn his head away at that. To look out the window. Just…ignore the repulsed feeling in his stomach. Just ignore the urge to claim territory and yank Louis away from Eleanor. She’s not even doing anything appalling yet.

Harry realizes the need to fill in the silence as to seem indifferent with what was actually a heartbreaking kiss. “Paris is the city of love, innit?” But if it were up to him, _that’s some cliché type of bullshit you’re into. You better not be fucking serious right now._

Louis chuckles slightly and Eleanor smiles warmly. They look happy. Just like every other couple that’s gotten to sit on the couch in front of Harry. “Are you guys settled on what type of wedding you want this to be?” He speaks up.

Eleanor suggested just a traditional, dainty-seeming wedding. Flowers, silk gowns, piano for the march, lights blazing in radiantly through the church’s stained-glass windows. The easiest one in the book.

 “Why? ‘Something wrong with it?” Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head, “No, s’good and all. I mean. Just not what I’d expecting you’d want your wedding to be like, Lou.” Louis would’ve asked for a string quintet, natural afternoon sunlight shining down on the clearing they decide the wedding take place in, Louis probably singing at the reception. Everything would be so personal. It’d be about Louis and the love of his life. Not the lucky bride and her groom. That’s the real Louis. His Louis.

 “Man, whatever it is you’re thinking, no. You and the boys will not sing while El marches. And Liam is not going to be the minister, alright?” Louis says jokingly, smiling at Harry.

“Speaking of the boys, have you told them about Harry?” Eleanor asks as she sips the tea Sophie prepared for them.

Harry snorts, “I’m sure the tabloids and the pictures would’ve filled them in, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yeah, Haz. What about lunch with the boys? You cool with that?” Louis invites.

+

“Harry, man!” Niall exclaims. His arms outspread to his whole wingspan as he greets Harry. “Aw, I just wanna cry.” He teases as he envelopes Harry in a crushing hug. Like nothing’s changed.  Well, nothing has changed, to be honest. Except that Niall used to be the baby of the group and now, he already has a five-year-old and a two-year-old back home. But if we talk about Niall’s face? It hasn’t aged a day. God. Sure, he’s gained some weight. His adolescent metabolism didn’t win over the battle against time.

 “Ni, don’t hog over the boy. We want our share too.” Liam smiles at Harry. Hair lessened a bit over the years, deep creases on the forehead, honestly Liam looks a bit more like he were leaning on 35. He has a hand patting over Harry’s back after their hug.

And then there’s Zayn. Looking healthier than Harry’s ever seen him, more weight than before, but not too much. Just some meat to the bones. There aren’t creases on his face as deep as Liam’s. But there are laugh lines and vague wrinkles underneath his eyes. He looks really handsome and god, if Zayn weren’t a straight man, Harry would have moved on easily from Louis with Zayn. He’s just one of those guys who can make you believe in love at first sight or at least shake your beliefs with an intensity of 6.5

“Ey, Styles. Miss me?” It’s unbelievably raspier than before, but yup, that’s Zayn voice. The words come out of his mouth and the finishing smile after it seems to agree.

“Zayn.” Harry breathes before falling into Zayn’s arms. People always think that Niall was Harry’s best friend in the band—well, at least, after he and Louis were forced to stop being so friendly in front of the public who could infer what PR didn’t want them to. They said stuff about Narry. They also thought Zayn was Louis’s best friend. What with Zayn having moved in with Louis when he and Perrie first had a break. And when the two of them bought that van together. Or whenever they got into trouble. But people were wrong.

They never did see how Zayn was the quiet one and how Harry was the idyllic one. It was bound to happen. The mysterious toning the vague and hidden. The silent so complementary with the endearingly appreciative.

Because Niall never stays still and Liam talks too much and Louis inadvertently inflicts pain. Zayn was perfect for when Harry just wanted to stare up at the stars and wish everything he wanted silently without having to use words. And somehow, without the need for them to talk it out, Harry knew Zayn thought so too.

Harry sighs as he smiles at Zayn sadly; he’s missed this man so much. “I really missed you.” Whispers Zayn.

“Good thing he’s here now isn’t he?” Louis butts in as he sits next to Harry’s other side.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Shut up, asshole. Best friends in reunion here. You’ve had Harry a few good weeks, I think you can lend him to us now.”

Louis pouts playfully and puts an arm around Harry’s torso. “ _My_ best friend!”

“Most of the time, I have a hard time convincing myself that Louis’s actually thirty-two.” Harry teases. Louis makes a face at him, sliding the arm off from the man’s torso despite Harry’s laugh-filled apologies.

It’s one table filled with five friends. No more bitterness, just familiarity. Like coming home to your grandma’s after not having visited for years. Only better. Like the scent of her wonderful surrounds the house upon your entry. It’s like being in the bungalow for the first time when Liam had just screwed reminding the guys that they had to rehearse for judge’s houses and joined in the game of footie instead, when Niall’s laugh had started to lean more on the endearing side rather than the annoying, when Zayn’s ice broke and he had used his melted frost for a metaphorical brew and showed the other lads how he was a cup of tea as well, when Louis had started leaning into Harry’s side more and more, and when Harry decided he was never going to stop laughing at Louis’s jokes. Home.

+

“—then she finally convinced him to stop smoking.” Niall says over their meals that night, cutting his well-done steak nonchalantly.

Harry gives Zayn an approving look, smirking proudly. “That’s really nice, Zayn. I guess that’s why you _really_ look in the pink now. Healthy’s a good look on you, man.” He says, forking through his lobster salad, “So how’s Perrie doing with the third pregnancy then?”

Zayn smiles at that, “Yeah, she’s well. She’s more used to the concept that there is an actual human in her now than in the previous ones. She used to freak out whenever the baby’d first kick—she’s silly, I love her.” He sighs in appreciation.

Liam joins in, “Always thought it would be Louis who’d marry first before you and Perrie actually gathered up the time to just get it over with.” Zayn glares at him at that.

“At least you and Perrie only took a break for one year before you realized you wanted to spend forever with each other finally. El and I broke up thrice—”

“Three times isn’t that bad.” Harry inserts.

“—last year. That’s not counting all the other ones in the past years.” Louis finishes.

“Why are you selling your relationship out?” Liam asks, eyebrows furrowed at his friend. The question was asked in an amused tone, Harry knows. But he can’t help but use the subsequent answer as something to fulfill his curiosity. Something he shouldn’t be doing if he wants to get over this phase with Louis Tomlinson.

Louis shrugs, chuckling slightly, “M’not, I’m just saying.”  

“Can’t imagine the two of you having gone through so many break-ups, mate.” A sip of his drink, “I mean, I’ve spent almost every second of every day with the two of you this week and well, you two don’t seem any sweeter than any other couple I’ve handled.” Harry says, not missing that curious look that Zayn throws his way.

“You think so?” Louis asks with that wide-eyed head-tilted-sideways face he does when he’s genuinely inquisitive. And Harry may or may not want to cup those stubbly cheeks and claim those lips as his like he always wants.

No. Harry wants to say no. He wants to say that Eleanor’s the worst girlfriend ever even if he knows she isn’t. He wants to shake his head and giggly loudly and say _No, you idiot._ He’s not naïve though. So he nods and tops it off with those closed-mouthed smiles and a slow blink. He’s not a good actor; in fact he’s a ridiculous one. But that nod always gets people to believe him.

+

It’s cold and it’s dark and Harry loves it. Harry loves it more when Louis pats his back and lets his palm linger for a second longer than necessary. They’ve just exited the restaurant with filled stomachs and plans to get wasted—except for Zayn because the sap can’t go home drunk since he has a wife and kids to get home to and Niall because waking Timmy and John up due to his need to piss badly or his screams upon having stepped on a Lego would infuriate the infamous Mrs. Horan—that Harry plans on meeting soon. Ah, the disadvantages of having The Ring. (“Marriage is a curse, Harry. S’not as fun as Monica and Chandler made it out to be.” Niall whispered earlier that night as he nursed his slice of Zabaglione trifle.)

“There’s a really great club just a few blocks away. Great girls there, Li.” Niall says. Oh, he likes teasing Liam about being single, alright. Because Liam’s never single. But rarely, like now, he is. So ha.

Liam rolls his eyes like usual and pouts as he retorts, “I’m not the only solo polo in the club, Ni. Haz is too!”

Harry’s eyes widen as he turns to Liam and gasps dramatically, “I’m not a solo polo. I’d like it if you called my situation single blessedness.” Pretentious Harry forever oh god.

The boys laugh at that before Niall says his goodbyes, retreating into his car before giving the lads a two-finger salute and then driving off.

“I’ve got to head off as well. Want a ride, Tommo?” Zayn asks.

“Nah, might as well join these boys. Someone’s got to be there to listen to their rants about being single, right?” He teases, nudging Harry’s side. Harry rolls his eyes fondly at that.

Zayn chuckles before turning to Harry, “Oi, don’t be a stranger, yeah?  Call me tomorrow. I wanna go out for lunch.” The younger boy nods before extending his arm for a hug. “Good night, lads.” He says before exiting in the same fashion as Niall’s.

“Time to get smashed.” Louis whispers cheekily, letting out a little laugh that makes Harry want to cuddle him for his cute attempts in mischief.

“Hold on there, party animal. Haven’t you got a wife waiting at home?” Liam says as they start walking in direction to the nearest decent club.

Louis pouts at him, “But I haven’t partied with Harry in so long. Please, mum, just for tonight!” He whines.

He receives two pairs of eye-rolls at that. But it’s all good because he gets to join the party.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It was more of like an introduction to the situation so there's not a lot of L+H action yet. Tell me how it was. Thanks for reading. My tumblr is hazma-attacks.


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